“What the fuck, ‘Sef?”
“Mr. Abdel.”
Jesse glared at him from across the desk as the bell rang. This already wasn’t the best way to start a Monday.
Yusef patiently returned the stare. “I am sorry you have so many unanswered questions. All in due time.”
“Let’s start with ‘where the fuck were you?’”
Yusef paused and studied Jesse’s demeanor which was threatening at the least. “Hmm. You might remember me mentioning Erik Peters once or twice before. I thought I had warned and prepared you well enough for that kind of interaction.”
“Oh, yeah? To get my ass kicked by fucking Dalisay Morcilla? You prepared me for that?”
Yusef closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. He looked down at his tie and straightened it under his thin sweater vest. “You mean to say that you did not return safely to the Plane or your own den? That you were somehow intercepted?”
“What the fuck, ‘Sef? Where were you?”
Yusef leaned back in his desk chair. “I suspected another Reader was operating nearby. Judge Thompson had to have been enthralled at some point.”
“Enth-what?”
“Enthrallment is when a Reader consistently infiltrates the haze of someone to alter their memories, their fears, and their desires. They do this to influence and control the victim’s decisions and actions here in the waking world,” Yusef explained.
“The fu-- uh, how?”
“It requires work. After learning how the victim thinks and feels, a Reader must weave dreams for the victim that deconstruct and recreate their desires and objectives. In some cases these are dog whistle phrases or subliminal imagery that trigger responses from the victim in the waking world. A person is essentially brainwashed and can be controlled to think and act in a certain way.”
Jesse stared back in shock, trying to connect the things he’sd seen with what Yusef was explaining to him: the announcements, the security measures, the multimedia broadcasts of Erik Peters, and all of the photos and books and propaganda in that deep subconscious of the judge.
“I saw no sign of recent infiltration, but clearly Judge Thompson had previously been influenced by an outside force -- the Apostles, undoubtedly -- and they were able to create a sustaining influence in his subconscious.”
Jesse was still too angry to listen. “Who? Dalisay? Why didn’t you say something before if you thought there might have been someone else around?”
“You already had too much to focus on. And again, Mubtadi, I did not know for sure. But now I do. What did she say to you?”
“I was too busy getting my ass kicked to take notes, ‘Sef.”
“When we are around others, you must refer to me as Mr. Abdel. Where were you?”
“Back in Thompson’s dream. In the fancy school hallway. She effed me up.”
“Yes, you do look rather… spent. Remember our run-in with Carolina? You are suffering a similar aftereffect as I had. You were ejected from the Plane because you took in too much pain for you to endure. A decisive defeat -- whether in someone’s subconscious or on the Plane itself -- can be debilitating on your willpower. But it is temporary, as long as you are willing to put the work back in. Plus, you will be tougher and wiser now. Defeats are necessary for growth, Mubtadi.”
“Whatever. Can you write me a note so I can go home and sleep?”
“No. Go to class.”
“‘Sef!”
“‘Mr. Abdel.’” Knocks erupted from the door along with muffled yells and rubber screeches from shuffling shoes from outside the classroom. Yusef stood up from his desk and made his way to the door as he scooped his keys from his pocket. “We shall continue later. Chin up, Mubtadi. Endure. Grow!” He opened the door and unlocked it as his students began pouring in with frowns on their faces. “And rest! I know you have not forgotten about tomorrow, Mr. Ramirez. The big day is finally here.”
Jesse’s eyes shot open wide and then he quickly forced them back to a normal size. “Oh, you mean the Science Fair?” he nonchalantly confirmed. “Psh. Yeah, it’s whatever. I got this.”
“You are all prepared, yes?” Students began lightly pushing past Jesse to get to their seats as he slowly walked away from Yusef while still looking over at him.
“Of course!” Beads of sweat began to appear above his lip and on his forehead. “’Kay. Bell rang. Gotta go, bye!”
“Send me your final draft when you get home, Mr. Ramirez!” Yusef yelled as Jesse ran outside the classroom, impolitely shoving past students.
He cleared them and found a wall to lean against as he hunched over and rested his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. “Fuck!”
Heavy footsteps neared Jesse. A large Asian guy whom Jesse recognized as Phi walked by holding only a folded up school agenda and spotted Jesse. “Aw, did you get your heart broken again, Romeo?”
Jesse looked up and then stood straight. “Fuck off.”
Phi chuckled and flipped him off, then made sure his baseball cap was straight and went back to looking all around him for potential administrators or campus security as he trudged down the hallway. He turned back and yelled, “I hear Raymond and Moises are looking for you. Can’t wait to see that shit go down! Romeo!”
Closing his eyes, Jesse took a deep breath and sighed. He rushed over to Mr. Klinkhammer’s classroom and borrowed a laptop, promising to return it by the end of the day. “Yes, yes,” the English teacher grumbled as he waved his hand. “What’s it matter to me? They’re not mine.”
In the rest of his classes that day Jesse was scribbling in his notebook and scrambling on his laptop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he kept mumbling under his breath as he worked and went from class to class, multi-tasking with whatever assignment he had to do that day or ignoring it altogether.
The laptop was about ready to die when he returned it after sixth period. “I hope that was helpful,” Klinkhammer said from his desk as softly as his deep, loud voice could get. He leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his belly, which was swollen like a beachball. There were photos and holiday cards from students, staff, and family pinned on the wall behind him. A few book posters were taped to the high parts of the ceilings around his classroom, but it was mostly student work that was on display around the room. One whiteboard was completely full of notes from Julius Caesar.
“Yeah,” Jesse responded as he crouched down and finished plugging the laptop back into the computer cart.
“You’re ready for tomorrow?”
This time Jesse turned to Klinkhammer and gave him a quizzical look.
“Just because I teach English class doesn’t mean I don’t follow what happens outside of it. I understand you’re working on a lot of research and it’s justice-related. That’s quite admirable, Jesús.”
“Yeh.” Jesse rubbed his saggy, dried eyes. “The research has been more, uh, intense than I thought. I don’t know if Imma be ready.”
“That’s unfortunate, especially if you’ve already put in so much work. A student in one of my Honors classes has also been working hard on a research project for the Fair. I proofed it earlier this week. It’s phenomenal, truly impressive.”
“Uh-huh,” Jesse uttered, shifting his weight and rubbing his neck. He wondered just how much more work he had to do still.
“You might know her. Dalisay Morcilla? A very promising young lady. You kind of remind me of her, actually. I don’t know why.”
Jesse scowled and clenched his fists.
“No? You don’t know her? Huh. I thought you might have. You smarties all run in the same circles. Anyhow, good luck, Jesús. I hope you have your own victory at Philippi.”
“Oh, I’ll have it done. Imma be ready tomorrow. Dead a— uh. Bet.”
Jesse rushed home, trying to stay angry and motivated to beat Dalisay in order to fight off the exhaustion from the previous night. Lita saw how focused he was when she got home later and avoided nagging him about chores or watching his siblings. She brought him dinner while he worked at the kitchen table, hardly looking away from his notebook and his phone as he shoveled food into his mouth.
Alfredo and Marcy called for Lita from the living room, their homework splayed out on the coffee table. “Ya voy.”
After some time she heard Jesse call from the kitchen. “Lita.”
“¡Ya voy!” She walked to the kitchen entryway. “¿Qué?”
Without looking up at first, Jesse said. “Thanks.” Then he twisted around from his chair and forked the last of his fajitas into his mouth. And just as quickly he turned back and went to work again.
“De nada, nieto.” Lita stood there and stared at him for a moment. Then she walked over behind Jesse and gently grazed his scalp with her fingernails. “Estoy orgulloso de ti, niño.”
Jesse stopped for a second and asked, “What’s that? ‘Orgullo’?”
Lita took a moment. “Es ‘proud.’ I am proud of you, Jesús.”
Pausing again, Jesse nodded. “Dinner was good.”
“Si, si.” Lita returned to the living room and checked back on Alfredo and Marcy, who were wrestling and slapping each other for the TV remote.
The alarm on his phone blared and Jesse’s gut twisted when he noticed the early morning blue gray outside the living room window. He shot up from the couch and saw his notes scattered across the coffee table. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I knew I shouldn’t have left the kitchen last night.”
Mrs. Arcos rushed through the living room from the kitchen, dangling her keys and clutching her purse and her lunch in a knapsack. She cleared her throat loudly and walked out of the apartment without saying a word. Mrs. Arcos locked the doors behind her.
Jesse wiped the slobber from his chin and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He lifted his arm and sniffed his armpit. His nose wrinkled and he shrugged. “Fuck it.” Then he went right back to his notes and typing into his phone.
“¡Jesús! ¡Jesús!” Lita called from the hallway. She walked into the living room still tying the cord of her sleeping robe around her midsection. “Ah. ¡Pobrecito! ¿Quieres breakfast?”
Taking a long moment to finish typing something in his phone, Jesse finally replied, “Nah. You got work, no?”
Lita flung her arms at Jesse as she began hustling to the kitchen. “You have school. Today es muy importante.”
The soft banging of cabinets closing and the clanging of dishware on countertops drifted from the kitchen as Jesse continued his work, hardly stopping to blink or even look away from either his notes or his phone.
Before he knew it, Jesse had to go so there would be enough time to find somewhere on campus to print out his project, then make it presentable. He grabbed his project supplies from his room, which he had bought with money he got from selling his NBA Live video game to a neighbor the week before. The rest of the money he would save so he could buy some heavier dumbbells.
“¡Tu desayuno!” Lita called out from the kitchen as Jesse was already opening the front door, holding his bag of supplies in the other hand, while trying to put on his hoodie over one shoulder and balancing his backpack on the other.
“I gotta go!”
“You’re not hungry, nieto?”
“No, I’ll eat later. Imma be late!”
Lita rushed over as Jesse waddled out of the doorway with all of his things. She put a hot burrito wrapped in a paper towel inside his hoodie pocket for him.
“Get the door,” he barked, kicking the outer screen door shut, almost in her face. Then he rushed off.
“¡Que Dios esté contigo!” he heard Lita yell from behind him.
An hour later toward the end of first period, Mr. Padilla had largely ignored Jesse as Jesse in turn ignored him, frantically trying to make his project presentable. He was able to use two empty desks in the back of the room to work. A few more students had not returned from winter break, in addition to the ones that left after The Tenth. He ended up using only half of the supplies he bought due to lack of time. When the bell rang Mr. Padilla walked over to Jesse and he prepared himself for a scolding or a lecture from the teacher. “Buena suerte, Señor Ramirez.”
“Huh? Oh. I mean, uh… thanks.”
Mr. Padilla nodded and walked back to his desk as the rest of the students drained out of the classroom around him.
Jesse was now excused from the next few periods, as check-in time for the Science Fair participants was expected to begin soon. He rushed to the gym with his printed research pasted onto a large poster board. “What the fuck am I forgetting?” he snarled to himself. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he forgot something. Jesse racked his brain and then thought about anything he might have forgotten at home. Too late for that, he thought. Jesse didn’t slow his frantic pace at all. He didn’t have a free hand to check the time on his phone but he knew check-in time had to be starting about then.
A folding table with a taped sign that read “Check-In” was set up just in front of the opened gym doors. It was being manned by Ms. Irons, the school librarian. “There he is! You did it! You made it!” she exclaimed with her hands high above her head in celebratory triumph.
Jesse forced his eyebrows up in a tired expression of fake joy. He wiped his brow of sweat he worked up from jogging across campus while juggling all of his materials.
Then Ms. Irons quickly scanned a roster laying in front of her and satisfyingly marked a check. “Table twenty-four, dear. I think the rest of these are no-shows. That cold/flu is going around. Anyway, now I can leave!” and her arms shot up again, but with slightly more enthusiasm this time. “Go on in, Honey. And I hope you formatted your works cited page in the same format style of your research paper. That always loses points for a lot of students. Good luck!” Ms. Irons cheered with a dismissive wave as she stood up and began shuffling papers together.
Jesse’s stomach dropped. He forgot his works cited page. Fresh beads of sweat began gathering on his brow and he felt a line of sweat fall down his lower back. I’ll be disqualified, he thought to himself. They won’t even look at my research. I’m fucked.